StopGap
by Andatariel.x
Summary: Kenny is in between houses, in between home and college. He has a place to stay in his gap and muses about it. God my summaries suck Kenny's P.O.V.
1. Between Places

**Stopgap.**

I'm in limbo. This feels like a stopgap between two places. I guess that's the best way to describe it.

The first place is my old house, the place I grew up in, the place that saw my first kiss, first break up, it was that door that I came in through crying the very first time I thought my heart had been broken, that door I pounced through waving the best report card I ever had, stumbled through drunk for the first ever time. My old room is empty now, the bed and all the junk I'd built up over years of living there is gone all that remains is my old broken draws, my mattress, a broken lamp. The walls are still plastered with peeling, yellowing posters of half naked women and monster trucks.

The walls of that house saw my last month of waiting to see how I'd done at school, see if I'd done enough to go to college. They witnessed my tears when I'd done shockingly badly. They witnessed my elation when college said they wanted me anyway. They witnessed my last relationship crumble as I slammed my fists into them to stop myself throwing shit around. They didn't see the eventual break up, that happened here, in the room I'm in now.

This stopgap is nice enough, in fact I digress, I love it here. My room is huge, undecorated so far, one of the reasons all my things are still in boxes, it's lovely anyway, an attic, a big attic. I'm sitting here on my bed, the only thing in my room that's really together, surrounded by my stuff, pairs of jeans, two towels, a couple of DVDs, a half drunk cup of coffee, the ash tray, packets of cigs, lighters, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of coke, a glass, half a bar of chocolate, my pyjamas, a scarf, my wash bag.

The essentials, y'know, but they're all on the floor because I don't know where to put them. Hell even my light and TV are living on the floor because I haven't got the furniture assembled to put them on. We moved here because the old house was frankly fucked and to be fair we didn't need such a big place what with Kevin having moved out and me off to college. "College," I say the word aloud, "I'm going to college," The words feel alien on my tongue considering the absence of the word 'not'.

The next place is an unfamiliar college dorm room, a hell of a lot smaller than where I am now but that isn't what's important, what's important is going and making something of myself, doing well on my course… and who am I kidding, I'm most excited about being close to my friends. It's that thought that kept me going through all the roughest nights.

I think though, as I sit here in my stopgap, that I'm watching everything fall into place, slowly become perfect, I've been waiting for this and now I'm ready to go, well mostly, I haven't unpacked to repack yet... But hell, I'm young, free and single and I'm ready to go out there and make something of myself. I have things to look forward to, the future is bright and I can already see the sun coming over the clouds, so I'll stop boring you with my gay metaphors and do some more packing.

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A/N: I felt like writing a bit of fic and this is what came of it~


	2. Drunk Love

**Drunk Love**

I'm wasted. My parents were too busy yelling at each other to see me take the vodka and coke upstairs and now the vodka is empty. There's alcohol in my veins and it's nice, it's good, I can't stop laughing.

The reason for the alcohol was another argument, I sat there like "I left this so this shit stopped, so can we just not?" So I grabbed some vodka because it makes me not care. Only now I do care, but in the best possible way.

Why am I happy? I don't know in all honesty, I thought after my break up that it would take a long, long time to heal. It didn't. I guess I have two people to thank for that mostly, two supports who were unwavering, listened to my emoing, tried to make me feel better.

"_If you zink zis ees for ze best, zen I'm 'ere for you."_

"_You need to make yourself happy not ill."_

Two people were right by me giving me the words I needed to hear to give me the strength to do what I needed, to make myself happy and they're both still here. They dragged me through the rough patch, made me feel cared for, wanted, _loved._

"_Eef you aren't online I'll text you, make sure you're okay."_

"_I'm here if you need me."_

I want to tell them both how much that meant, how much I love them, how happy it made me to have people who really acted like they gave a shit. I won't though, because I know it'll sound really fucking gay. Then the third person joins, just by a simple action that makes me smile. I do thank them, I don't care if she finds out anymore, I care about telling someone thank you for making me feel like I matter.

These people are the people making the change better, knowing I have them if I need them makes it all less nerve wracking. College man. I'll be self-sufficient, out on my own, only knowing they're there, only a little while away, that if I need them they'll be there. They make it easy.

I can't stop laughing, I'm giggling like a fucking schoolgirl.

I'm not doing anything I should be doing, I'm too drunk to do anything practical or functional anyways. Instead I'll smoke my cigarettes and talk to my friends and ignore the silly bitch. Because I'm too drunk to care.


End file.
